Miss Amelia Jones
by Mamma Russia
Summary: All he could do was stare at the angel on his bed. His angel. His Emily. Victorian Era. USUK. Fem!America. AU. T for character death. One-shot unless someone gives me an inspiration to continue.


_okay~! Long time no see! I did this for English and my teacher said it was pretty damn good so I thought I'd let you all see~!_

_Short Author's note cause I know you are probably like(if you actually follow me); 'I hate you so much right now. WHERE HAVE YO BEEN?' And I'm sorry. I just haven't been on much. The last year has been busy. _

_Was in hospital last summer. And I've been doing a lot of maturing. So I'm very sorry._

_I know that isn't an excuse but it's all I have for you to be quite honest, my dears._

_However, I'm writing for you all now. Enjoy, my precious readers~!_

-x-x-x-

A soft breeze drifted through the dark corridors. The candles lighting the walls flickered and danced as he wind picked up. Footsteps could be heard for what seemed to be miles down the corridor. They echoed and increased in pace as they neared the source of the wind.

A young man with thick furrowing brows and straw blonde hair slammed the window shut and sighed, looking at the puddle of rain water that had gathered on the floor.

"Em-!" He stopped himself mid-thought. He couldn't call on his maid. It was the reason he was out his study.

He turned and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a basin as he went. The other servants stared at him in shock of his caring nature seeming to shine through. They didn't understand why he cared so much for one girl. A pauper girl at that.

The man ignored the people surrounding him and just got to work filling the basin with cold water and grabbing a cloth. His eyebrows seemed to be stuck in the angry, frustrated state they were in. His movements back along the hallway displayed the frustration that was splashed across his face.

Suddenly, he stopped in front of a huge door. The door was his own room door, but he'd never been so afraid of it. He took a deep breath, slowly passed the daunting obstacle and into the room.

On the bed lay a short haired blonde, young woman. She was pale white compared to her usual rosy cheeked self. A doctor busied himself round her by taking blood and doing tests.

The man bit his lip, face covered in worry and concern, tears building in his eyes and heart and mind racing – the list was endless. His whole form seemed to shift and he looked a new man – a stressed, worried, heartbroken, lost man.

He took some careful, slow steps towards the bed. The iron taste of blood had filled his mouth from the abuse his lip was receiving.

"I'll be back with test result in a few hours," The man let what the doctor said go right over his head, not even bothering to try process it. All he could do was stare at the angel on his bed. His angel. His Emily.

Okay, maybe her being his was a bit far…but he did love her, and no one's opinion mattered. They were the same age, roughly. The girl's mother had worked for the family when he was younger and after her mother passed, the family employed her in hope she was the same. In ways she was – in other ways, she was her own person.

He smiled slightly at the thought and pushed any remaining hair from her face. Her eyebrows scrunched together then relaxed as her bright blue eyes fluttered open. Emily glanced his way and smiled.

"I'm sorry, Master Kirkland. I had one of my fainting spells again." She sat up slowly and somewhat painfully. "I'll get to my chores."

The master gently laid a hand on her shoulder, smiling. A silent command to stay put. The smile was returned gratefully.

She curled up in the bed again and smiled.

"It's funny…the only woman who should be in your bed is your wife." Her laugh afterwards filled the room with a positive, happy attitude that he couldn't help but smile at. She never changed.

"Master Kirkl-"

"Arthur." He quickly corrected her. He felt that she was more his friend than his servant. His only friend at that.

"Arthur," She giggled happily, "Can you tell me a story…?"

Her face resembled that of a little girl's. He couldn't help but chuckle at the adorable look plastered across the pale canvas. She never had an education so hearing stories was a joy to her. He nodded and began.

"Once there was a man…a rich man, and he had a maid. The maid wasn't just a maid to the man, but his best and only friend. He loved her. Though, he never knew how she felt. He never knew if she was acting like his friend because the man was her employer or because she really was his friend.

"Anyway, one day, the maid started to get very sick, and the man could think of nothing else except for her and her well being…" She was sleeping by now. Arthur kissed her head and whispered, "I love you, Emily"

He walked out the room just as the doctor was approaching him with his briefcase full of papers and information about the sleeping beauty in his room. He looked down and solemn. He started speaking as soon as he came to a stop in front of him.

"Mr Kirkland…the tests have come back and…" The doctor bit his lip then looked him straight in the eye.

"She's dying."

He blinked the tears away along with the memories, twisting the bouquet of flowers in his hand. He knelt down in front of the cold, unforgiving stone. He bit is already cut up and chapped lip once again like he had done everyday not so long ago. He lay flowers on the grass then fully sat on the ground, staring at the carved rock. In the engraving it read;

**Here lies**

**Amelia Jones**

**1838 – 1854**

**Loving daughter and friend**

**She will be missed**

He couldn't stop the tears this time.

"Hey Emily…" The air seemed to clog in his throat and choke him. His words sounded strained and hoarse, "Nothing is the same around the house without you. I regret deeply not telling you all the things I wanted to. You are- were…an amazing woman. The house seems dreary and dark. There's not the same aura and laughter.

"To be quite frank, Emily, I miss you - and I regret not telling you that I love you…I always have. You were more important than any riches to me and I wish I noticed you were ill long ago so I could have the chance to save you."

He looked away and stood, heading for the carriage awaiting him that would only add to his misery by taking him too the place he refused to even think of as his home anymore.

He got in, nevertheless, and on the seat across from him, a note lay there that read;

_I love you too, Arthur_

For the first time since she left this cruel world. He cried.

-x-x-x-

_Damn~! That looks really short. I hate that there is a word count in English. Makes me so mad. Cause then when I finish something, I cant add on. I just can't. I don't know why. ._

_Lots of Love,_

_Review xx_


End file.
